


They Seem Alright

by theianitor



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Inspired by Music, M/M, Magazine AU, Music, Musicians, Photography, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Songfic, how early 2000s is that huh?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24954118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theianitor/pseuds/theianitor
Summary: “They haven’t released anything for a bit. Like, four years. I know Romain knows them and all, but even he didn’t know why. Except the rumors, of course.”“Rumors?” Stoffel asked. Lando shrugged.“Drugs, sex, rehab, hospital-stays, breakups, drunken fights... who knows, really? He told me I couldn’t ask and he wouldn’t either.”It was enough to make Stoffel lower his camera.“So it could be any of those, and nobody knows?”Lando kept his eyes forward, but a little smile curved his lips.“No, the rumor was it’s all of those.”
Relationships: Jenson Button/Nico Rosberg, Nico Rosberg/Sebastian Vettel (Past)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	They Seem Alright

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. Part of a bigger idea but if I didn't start somewhere I'd never get any of it out, so here we are. Rock band AU where famous band Sedita is coming off hiatus to do a promo for OverPower Magazine.  
> The lyrics featured are not written out in full (as per the rules!), and are also re-written a fair bit, to fit better with the story - this is not to disrespect the original work (which is great and belongs to Soundgarden), but rather to show where the inspiration came from, and that I'm not trying to just copy it.

The OverPower studio was just starting to properly come alive when Stoffel came in, giving the whiteboard in the hall a cursory glance before making his way to the little staff room for a cup of coffee. Some bands were big enough that he couldn’t help but care, but in all honesty, he didn’t pay much attention to music. Nodding at Marcus, he opened the cabinet to look for his favorite cup.

“Romain’s here,” Marcus said, looking back to his list of instructions. He was smiling, like he didn’t even need to see the look on Stoffel’s face to find it amusing.

Stoffel was staring back at him, his hand still stretched out for his cup but now motionless, his eyes wide. He licked his lips and tried to think of the right thing to ask. When he couldn’t think of anything smart, he asked anyway.

“Really?”

“Yup.”

Stoffel looked back to the cabinet and slowly took out his cup. Romain hardly ever came to the studio these days; once he’d set it up, he’d slowly shifted back into making music videos and concert cuts for the bands he got to know along the way. He was a big name and Stoffel still found himself a little stunned by the thought that _the_ Romain Grosjean had headhunted him for still shots three years ago. It was a job way beyond any position he could have ever dreamed of. But Romain’s point had always been to let OverPower become something that could run itself, hiring a talented staff of camera people, interviewers, and sound guys.

“So... is he just watching?”

Marcus looked up from his papers and took his glasses off.

“You think he’d come in and just watch? He’s doing the _interview_.”

The coffee machine hissed and sputtered as it filled Stoffel’s cup. Stoffel slid his fingers along the strap to his camera, thinking.

“Has he changed anything in the schedule?”

“No, it’s business as usual for the rest of us.” Marcus sat back a little, emptying the last sip of coffee from his own cup and then holding it out for Stoffel, who took it to refill it.

“You really don’t know who they are, do you?” Marcus said after a little while, smiling and shaking his head when Stoffel just shrugged. “You really need to start looking people up or something, you’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve _heard_ of them,” Stoffel argued.

Whatever Marcus was about to say was interrupted by running footsteps out in the hall, approaching quickly. They both looked to the door and within seconds, Lando Norris skidded to a halt outside and came into the room panting hard.

“Woke... up... late...” he panted, going over to the sink and turning the water as cold as it would go. “Can’t... subway... fuck...” He rinsed off his hands, then splashed his face, and finally got a glass out and filled it. “So... fuck...”

“Drink, just drink,” Marcus said, watching his colleague with an almost impressed smile.

Lando was their regular interviewer, a gaming youtuber turned podcaster whose almost childish enthusiasm combined with a deceptively big knowledge of music was his secret to getting even big celebrities to relax and speak candidly. He was another of Romain’s finds who had thrived at OverPower, quickly making his way up from somewhat well-known to proper internet celeb, all the way to presenter for a televised award show the previous year.

“You’re not working today anyway,” Stoffel said when Lando was filling his glass back up.

“What?”

“Romain’s in, he said he’ll do the interview.”

Lando blinked once, his eyes comically wide and his cheeks bulging with a mouthful of water. He swallowed hard.

“Well what am _I_ supposed to do?”

He looked so adorably taken aback that Marcus smiled widely and Stoffel snickered.

“You could watch the master at work, I guess?”

\--

Romain gathered the team for a quick rundown of the schedule, making sure everyone knew their places and, to Lando’s delight, instructing him to help go over the questions and then view the interview and help the editing team if need be. The lead audio engineer, George, was sent off first to go set everything up – most artists that came to OverPower gave a live performance of a song or two, usually published as exclusive content to the paying members.

“You’re free to take pictures as you want,” Romain said, pointing to Stoffel, who nodded. He was usually left to his own devices, getting one or two promotional shots but shooting throughout both the interview and performance. Relaxed pictures taken at the right moment were great fillers for the interviews.

The team went to their stations and Stoffel glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes, and _nobody_ was ever early. While Lando and Romain looked through their papers, doing quick double-checks and rephrasing a few things, Stoffel listened as Marcus walked around the little studio area as per George’s waved instructions, thumping the drums one after the other and speaking into microphones.

“So you’ve never heard of Sedita?”

Lando had grabbed a Red Bull and was standing next to Stoffel, watching Marcus pick up the bass guitar and pluck at the topmost string.

“I’ve _heard_ of them,” Stoffel said, searching his mind for any song of theirs he might actually remember. “But I don’t know them... well, or anything.”

As if he’d anticipated the answer, Lando shot him a smug smile and took a big sip from his energy drink. He started humming a quiet melody. In the studio, Marcus had made his way to the last string on the bass.

“Not really your style, I guess,” Lando said when he was finished humming what Stoffel assumed was a song he was _supposed_ to recognize.

“I guess,” Stoffel said, taking the opportunity to snap a few shots of Marcus now that he’d moved on to tuning one of the guitars. He fired off a shot towards the editing area too, catching George with a look of intense focus on his face, his huge headphones and the endless table of knobs and switches in front of him putting Stoffel in mind of a scientist at a spaceship launch.

Lando’s face went from smug to thoughtful, and then he looked at Stoffel in confusion.

“What _is_ your style, anyway?”

Stoffel just sent him a sideways glance before going back to his camera settings.

“Anyway, they haven’t released anything for a bit. Like, four years.”

The sound of the guitar got a little louder, a simple chord strummed over and over before it changed a couple of times, each time preceded by the sound of Marcus’s fingers sliding along the strings. He wasn’t a guitarist per say, but he could play a little bit. Stoffel snapped a few more pictures.

“I mean I know Romain knows them and all, but even _he_ didn’t know why. I mean, he knew the rumors, of course.”

“Rumors?”

Lando shrugged and turned to look at Marcus, who was moving on to the other guitar in the room, George making handsigns at him from over at the mixer board.

“Drugs, sex, rehab, hospital-stays, breakups, drunken fights... who knows, really? He told me I couldn’t ask and he wouldn’t either.”

It was enough to make Stoffel lower his camera.

“So it could be any of those, and nobody knows?”

Lando kept his eyes forward, but a little smile curved his lips.

“No, the rumor was it’s _all_ of those.”

\--

Only ten minutes late, Nico Rosberg was led into the studio by one of the ladies working reception. The staff had all fallen into what George recognized as a calm so intense it was almost jittery again, the nervous energy being focused and tamed into a somewhat controllable force, everyone set on the same goal.

George kept his headphones on and popped another mint into his mouth, watching through the mixer booth window as Romain first shook hands with the blond singer and then was pulled into a hug. Stoffel was staying in the background but obviously taking pictures, he always was, but Nico was fully focused on Romain, smiling and talking animatedly right away. Romain had of course directed several videos for Sedita but the way they talked suggested they actually knew each other.

One of the things a lot of people commented on when it came to OverPower was how relaxed it was. Even world-touring bands at the top of the charts came in and played like it was rehearsal, and everyone treated them nicely, but not like they were superstars. Romain knew how to pick people too; people with too high an opinion of themselves generally weren’t invited, and if they got in once they weren’t invited back.

Taking another mint out of the packet, George sat back and smiled to himself, remembering a visit from a band he’d since forgotten the name of, who had arrived in full rock star regalia and whose singer had insisted George wasn’t doing his job right when the performance didn’t sound like he was used to without adjustments and after-effects.

They hadn’t been invited back, and had even threatened legal action if OverPower released the video. It had been a completely toothless threat, of course, and the band had long since ceased to be relevant or even remotely successful.

Sedita however, were very much relevant and highly successful. Despite this, Nico Rosberg was not decked out in rock star regalia. He looked like he’d recently woken up, with his blond locks artfully tousled and swept back. He was wearing a black, very oversized knitted sweater, its sleeves so long they mostly covered his hands, the neck almost wide enough to uncover one of his shoulders. In contrast, his pants were so tight it was surprising how easily he moved in them. The only ‘rock star’ thing about him was the many rings on his fingers, visible even at this distance when he reached up to run his hands through his hair.

When Nico, Romain, Lando, and Stoffel disappeared into the little interview-area, Marcus came into the mixing booth.

“What’d you think?” George asked. Marcus sat down with a shrug.

“He seems alright.”

There was more to the comment than its brevity would suggest, and George let Marcus help himself to a mint while he waited for the full assessment. Someone being ‘alright’ meant they were at least worth the work; the whole staff had been taught to keep their comments neutral and factual while they were in the house – and nonexistent outside of it.

Marcus sucked on the mint, making a face.

“Romain asked if he wanted a drink and he said he’d already had one.”

George chuckled, shaking his head. It was a good sign that Romain was getting away with those kinds of jokes, especially with a well-known frequent flyer at high-class rehab facilities.

“If the rest of them are like him, it’ll be smooth sailing.”

Marcus stayed for a bit, stealing a few more mints, and he and George talked about shows they’d been to recently. Despite them both having worked in the industry since before they started at OverPower, it was easier to keep on top of things now; the studio regularly got free tickets to go see bands, and employees were encouraged to check out what was current.

A small light beside George’s mixer board flashed now and then, signaling people were coming in and out of the main door. George had set the light up himself, thus minimizing the time he had to keep an active eye on what went on outside his domain. When he wasn’t recording he was editing, and he preferred to work alone and undisturbed. At every flash he glanced up without even making the conversation stumble, until he looked up and his eyes remained fixed on the door outside.

“Time to work,” he said, standing up. Marcus looked out the window.

Four men were following the same receptionist as before into the main area, looking around and mostly talking among themselves. The one in front, however, seemed to be engaging the receptionist in conversation. She looked away with a shy smile on her face and the man seemed quite pleased with himself about it. He had a guitar case strapped over one shoulder and was the most dressed up of the lot, in a suit jacket and matching pants but with a white t-shirt underneath.

Behind him came a taller, dark-haired man who looked like he might have wandered in from the street by mistake, in workmen’s boots and faded black jeans, an equally faded shirt with a barely legible logo for some band George didn’t recognize on the front. The man was carrying a rectangular hardcase and talking to a broad-shouldered blond who had a leather jacket slung casually over his arm, nodding now and then. Bringing up the rear, the shortest and clearly youngest of them all was a man wearing a thin denim jacket and blue jeans, carrying a guitar in a gig-bag on his back.

Marcus sprung up and he and George went outside to help everyone get situated.

The little stage area wasn’t raised or otherwise marked off, but it was lit and bordered by a wall behind the drums. George’s little editing booth was straight across the room, a fair ways away. Usually the staff took to standing or sitting beneath his booth to listen to the performances, staying off to the sides to give the band and the camera men space to work. While the cameras were setting up, Marcus and George shook hands all around.

“Where’s Britney then?” the dark-haired bass-player, who had introduced himself as Mark, asked, looking around. “Still talking to Rogro?”

Marcus blinked a couple of times but George just smiled, indicating the door to the interview room.

“They should be done in a minute. You can set up, we’ve done basic so just let me know what you want and we’ll get it sorted.”

George liked watching musicians unpacking and setting up, it told him a lot about how well they knew their craft. A few smaller bands had used the house instruments to play, which was fine by him, but seeing what a band brought said something too. It was a scourge among some bigger bands to bring their most expensive or blinged-out stuff, trying to impress. George was mostly interested in _sound_ ; if someone brought a tin can to play on, he’d do his best to make that sound good.

The denim-clad Sebastian, who George knew to be the rhythm guitarist, stepped forward, while the drummer, Kimi, went to sit down behind the kit. Contrary to how drummers usually acted however, he took a minute to look around, checking the distances and drums present, and the first noise he made was when he put his foot down and closed the hi-hat.

“The two backing mics should be pretty high on reverb,” Sebastian said.

“Really high, basically wet,” Jenson chimed in, getting a bright red guitar out of his case. Sebastian shot him an unimpressed glance.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jenson said, holding up his hands and grinning. “You do it.”

Sebastian listed what their preferences for sound was, and George nodded along, quietly finding himself relieved. He wondered if Sebastian was the one to speak because he was the sound-geek – most bands had one, and it was usually one of the guitarists – or because he was the most verbal of the bunch. Apart from his introduction and question about the singer, Mark hadn’t said anything and was now just holding his bass, quietly talking to the drummer. Kimi had only introduced himself and then gone to sit down, and Jenson seemed quite happy to let his co-guitarist speak, despite having cut in earlier.

“Alright,” George said when Sebastian had finished talking. “I’ll be right up there, so if you need me to change something just let me know.” He nodded to Marcus and went back to his booth, shutting the door and enjoying the second of silence before he turned on the overhead microphones and slipped his headphones on.

\--

When Romain thanked Nico for the interview and got out of his seat, Stoffel was already at the door. He’d taken a few pictures of them as they talked, and he was pretty sure they’d come out very well. Romain had kept the conversation light and friendly but still gotten his questions in, giving Lando a master class in interviewing. Granted, he knew Nico from before. But he hadn’t given him any heads up about difficult questions, and certainly hadn’t kept from asking things – to his credit, Nico had fielded the questions easily, and not been afraid to laugh things off or plain tell Romain ‘no comment’ when he thought it was needed.

Towards the end of the interview Stoffel had found himself looking things up on his phone; he’d never admit it in so many words, but Lando had been entirely right. He didn’t know Sedita, not even a little bit. If pressured, he _might_ have been able to hum a few bars from their most famous songs, but he wasn’t sure. While the others talked Lando took notes, and Stoffel discreetly googled a few things as they flew past in conversation.

As he went, he had to work pretty hard at keeping his features neutral. First of all, Lando hadn’t been kidding about the problems surrounding the band: there were enough to write a whole novel on. Then Romain implied something about a lewd comment Nico had once made, regarding Sedita playing in New York and Nico possibly having a fling with the rhythm guitar player, who the singer affectionately referred to as Seb. Stoffel typed quickly, trying to look like he was texting.

Apparently the event had indeed taken place, as several gossip sites saw fit to quote Nico on it, with varying levels of indignation, disbelief, and amusement.

“New York was great, great gigs, wonderful people,” Nico replied when asked, smirking and running a hand through his hair. “America has always been good to us, it was good to be there.”

“So you think you will play New York again then?” Romain said with a knowing grin. Nico’s smirk grew broader still, and he winked.

“Oh I can’t wait to go back to New York.”

Judging by the pink tinge across Lando’s cheeks, he too knew what the comment was referring to. By the time they all left the room, Stoffel thought they both looked like blushing schoolboys.

Stoffel was ahead of the others as they arrived where the hallway opened up to the studio area, and he took a slight step to the side and raised his camera. Before the band had time to react to their presence, he wanted a shot of their unguarded and relaxed expressions, professionals by all means but obviously very much enjoying practicing their art together. When he’d pressed the button a couple of times, he raised his eyes and realized Nico Rosberg was standing next to him, looking at the screen at the back of his camera.

“It’s a good picture,” he said with a smile.

“Eh... thanks?” Stoffel replied, and stood there stunned as Nico sauntered over to join his bandmates. Most people tended to ignore him completely, or offer instructions to not shoot them from this or that side. Stoffel didn’t care much; he was after good pictures, something that _said_ something.

He raised his camera again as the band greeted their singer. Nico looked around the studio area and approached the man with the red guitar, their hands brushing and fingers hooking together for the briefest moment, the two sharing a whole conversation with just looks and smiles.

Stoffel wouldn’t even ask if they were going to use that picture, it would never happen, but he’d never delete it. It spoke volumes.

\--

While George did some last-minute adjustments and Sedita got ready to play their song, the camera guys getting into position, Lando checked over his notes. He liked to take a seat beneath the mixer booth, the stage right in front of him but still far enough away that he felt like he was watching the performance in private. He loved music. He liked to nod along, sometimes going as far as pretending to play a particularly rousing solo or fill in the air – he always had to work at not singing out loud.

_RG: The new album is kind of different to your previous, if the first single is anything to go on. What has changed?_

_NR: It has been a tough couple of years for us. The band, we were very close to splitting up several times, and for a while we worked on other things, thinking we would not play together anymore... and then we, you know, we met up again, and... we had all been fighting it, really. We_ want _to play together, we_ want _to keep it going, and fighting our inspiration when it tried to take us somewhere else, it was killing us. So we just started to play together again, you know, playing around, and then we had one song, and then two, and then more and more. So we called the album Embrace It, because we... that’s what you have to do._

_RG: You have said before that this album is more personal, but you have always been very open in your music..._

_NR: Music, inspiration, it always comes from a personal place. Good things, they come from a personal place, a close place. If you are doing it for the money, it might be fine, for sure, but it won’t be as good, it won’t be as close for the person listening. Even if you are inspired by something small, you have to tell the truth about it._

_RG: So you are telling the truth about the time when you have been away from the public light?_

_NR: Definitely. And some people will not be happy, but the important thing is telling the truth._

Lando read the comments over, looking at the parenthesis he’d made after. Nico had paused for a second and then started laughing, saying that Jenson would have said he sounded like a “pompous arse”. It was clearly a joke, but it didn’t need to be included in the printed version of the article.

At the end of the interview Romain had asked if they would be playing the new single, and Nico had looked thoughtful in a way Lando had felt was very deliberate. The singer had been quiet for a little while and then raised one eyebrow, tapping his finger against his lip as if he was considering something, and then given Romain a sly look.

“You know, I was thinking we could play the next one, for you.”

Romain had looked nothing short of _hungry_ at the prospect of an OverPower exclusive.

\--

The rest of the staff came to view the performance, and seeing as there was no music yet people still moved around pretty freely. Romain greeted the rest of the band and Stoffel stayed back, taking pictures now and then but in reality just waiting for the music to start. Action-shots were always great for the website and as thumbnails for videos. George was listening on from his booth, securely locked in with the red “No Entry”-light on above the door.

The two guitarists had tuned up, playing the first few notes of something, looking to each other to confirm everything was to their liking. Seb and Mark had a short conversation, the bass player letting his fingers wander down the fret board while they talked.

“Is it a ballad, maybe? Something romantic?” Romain asked, a knowing grin on his face even before Nico had pulled a disgusted grimace in his direction. Jenson gave a snort of laughter, Mark shook his head with a smirk, even Kimi gave a low chuckle from behind the drums.

“Is there something called anti-ballad?” Nico asked, moving towards the mic stand. Stoffel thought he looked as if he was drifting freely, floating through the room both as if he knew it well, but also as if he could have missed the mic stand completely if the wind – or his mood – had turned elsewhere.

“With you, definitely,” Mark quipped, sending Jenson into a fit of laughter.

Nico seemed to take the retort in stride, setting the stand so the microphone was just slightly above him, aiming down towards him. Stoffel silently took a picture, realizing he’d seen a shot like this before, a photograph from a Sedita-concert that was a pretty popular hit when looking the band up online.

“When you’re ready, gentlemen,” he said, casting a short glance over his left shoulder, where Seb and Mark had taken up positions. Mark was standing as far back as the room would let him, as if he didn’t want to be seen. Seb slid his fingers down the strings once, nodded at Jenson, and took a breath. The room fell silent.

The first, almost trepidatious tones from Sebastian’s guitar were answered by a high-pitched call from Jenson’s, and they repeated it as the bass and drums set up a background, stabilizing the pace of the song. It definitely wasn’t a ballad, Lando thought, listening intently. It was slow, but rather than safe and peaceful, it sounded ominous and heavy, a huge beast slowly waking up.

After a short solo, Lando felt more at ease. The guitars had the old Sedita sound, and Kimi was as solid as ever. Nico crooned softly, as if finding the melody for a second before actually starting to sing. When he did, the lead guitar backed off, letting the singer have his space.

_“Show your face, blowing smoke and talking wind,_   
_said I lost my grip, fell to far to start again, start again...”_

Lando glanced at Stoffel, who was crouched down to get a shot of the band as they played. It would have fit the words to be sad or angry, but Nico was smiling, swaying his hips slowly, his fingers wrapped around the hems of his over-long sleeves.

_“Just a snake, finds my shape and tells the world,_   
_Remember this, remember everything’s just black or burning sun...”_

He hung on the last word as the feeling of the song opened up, the beast raising its head now. Stoffel snapped away as both guitarists moved to chorus the singer, the reverb so heavy their voices almost sounded like they were under water.

_“I’ll enjoy the free ride..._   
_Sleep tight for me, sleep tight for me,_   
_I’m gone.”_

The chorus repeated again and Lando realized he’d started nodding along. Romain was in a chair to his left, nodding along too with a thoughtful look on his face, and further down he could see Marcus, his face carved deep in shadows with the light from the stage and the dark they were sitting in. Lando thought there must be some kind of meaning behind it all; Nico had made such a specific point of saying this album had to do with honesty, and while a lot of artists talked artsy crap like that Nico had always been very forthcoming about his inspirations.

The lead guitar filled in for a moment before Nico raised his hands, grabbing the microphone again. His sleeves fell back a little, revealing his hands and arms in a way that almost looked indecent.

_“Warm and sweet, dancing on the razor’s edge,”_

Nico’s voice had a certain slither to it now, and Stoffel took a picture and then lowered his camera. The singer had his eyes closed, wetting his lips and pressing in close to the mic stand.

_“Tight and deep, one last sin to grace your bed...”_

Stoffel blinked. Even a quick read of the rumors surrounding Sedita gave plenty of fuel for thought, but this was much more explicit than he’d been suspecting. Romain was still nodding along, a little smile playing on his lips, and Lando seemed enraptured with the performance, sitting forward in his seat, eyes never leaving the band for a second.

_“Your sucking holy wind will tear me from this place tonight,_   
_end of my wits, and then it hits me and I have to say goodbye...”_

It sounded almost accusatory, more force behind the words and the lusty nature of a few seconds ago all but blown away. Jenson echoed the words, not as loud as the singer but it made his words sound all the more weighted. When the chorus repeated, Stoffel took a few more pictures, trying to get the bass player and drummer into the shot as best he could. Kimi had somewhat terse look on his face, arms working away and eyes seeing nothing but the drums.

The chorus came back once more, and this time the drums got more intense, Nico answering the guitarists rather than leading them, and it led into a bridge where Nico cast a glance at Jenson, again smiling as he sang.

_“So enjoy the free ride,_   
_if only tonight._   
_Because I feel I’m slowing,_   
_feel like going down.”_

Stoffel rather thought his photographs would never be able to convey the conversations that seemed to be going on on the little stage, but he snapped a few shots anyway as the solo carried on. Lando had lost himself completely by now, headbanging and keeping time with his right foot. Marcus was nodding more discreetly but the look on his face betrayed that he was actually impressed. Just for a laugh, Stoffel snapped a picture of him too.

The guitarists had the kind of unity that only really came with playing together for years; when Jenson went off on a tangent, putting his red guitar through its paces, Sebastian kept everything steady and stayed back. Yet at a single look, Sebastian was ready to play it up, fingers nimbly driving the melody while Jenson added accents, both of them playing on the steady ground laid out for them by the drums and bass.

When things finally slowed, the last part repeated once more before the song ended, Nico drew out the last words as long as he could while the others let loose on their respective instruments.

_“... feel I’m slowing, feel like going... down...”_

When the noise died down, the OverPower crew all applauded, Lando going as far as giving them a shrill whistle.

“You are right,” Romain said when he approached the stage, smiling broadly and indicating a little table of bottled water and cups set up. “It is not very romantic, is it?”

“He’s not very into the whole forgive and forget when it comes to his exes,” Jenson said, speaking low enough that only Romain was intended to hear it – Marcus only caught it because he happened to be close by.

“I forgive,” Nico said with a little pout. “Or at least I forget, I don’t know.”

All three of them laughed, and soon enough Sedita were packing up their things and leaving the studio, having been promised a first-hand of the shots and the video. Marcus started clearing up cables and moving things back in their place, Stoffel was putting away his camera, getting ready to go to his office and start looking through all his pictures.

“So, what did you think?” Marcus said, pulling a cable between his hands and making a loose knot to hang it by. Stoffel looked over at the hallway, the band already gone.

“They seemed alright.”

\- The End -

**Author's Note:**

> All in good fun, as per usual. :)  
> Thanks for the read! <3 All comments and kudoses will be cared for with absolute love.


End file.
